Bloodmoon
by Arka1248
Summary: Sauron loves animals, people not so much.


In Dol Guldur the early mornings used to be quiet, the fortress kept dozing, taking time to awake after the restless nights. But this time the usual silence in his chambers was disturbed by an unexpected ruckus from the outside. Annoyed, the Witch-king approached the window arch.

Down in the yard, one of the cubs ran in circles barking, while the other one spun in the arms that held him. Overexcited, he tried to lick his Master in the face, not that the usually reserved Sauron met it with much resistance. Outside the window, the Nazgul watched the scene with a grim astonishment. His position high from the tower was an outstanding observation point while allowing him to remain hidden from any inquisitive looks.

As innocent as the cubs looked, these beasts would soon be willing and able to tear any mortal or elven body apart with their powerful, greedy maws. Not long ago, the Witch-king happened to witness to their blood feast in all details, how hungry wargs tore a still living prisoner apart - a sight not for the faint of heart. Humans who served in Dol Guldur did not tend to them for these very reasons - not even to the little warglings that still retained a good share of their cub clumsiness and some shreds of what resembled amity.

The cub eventually succeeded at proving his adoration towards Sauron, and his tongue reached the Master's chin, even his lips. The Master smiled, apparently pleased by this tenacity. On impulse, the Witch-king turned away for an instant, his gauntleted fingers digging into the window's arch as if trying to crush the stony ledge into crumbs.

When he looked down again, the Master's hand was stroking the cub's fur and he licked the little beast's nose back in the same manner, returning the favour. The wargling whimpered, overjoyed, his tail wiggling wildly. The Nazgul gritted his teeth.

_Little witless creature. You are not even capable of understanding, how it feels, to receive His favour. Why is it you who is worthy?_

As if having heard his thoughts, the Master raised and turned his head, distracted from the wargling. Defying the distance and the height between the two of them, Sauron's eyes unmistakably found the Witch-king's, exposing him in his shelter and pinning his whole being like a mounted butterfly. His gaze fell heavy into the Witch-king's soul, stripping and revealing his thoughts and worries.

* * *

The moon rolled over the sky, reddish, menacing and unnatural. Wolven howling disturbed the night, borne from somewhere deep in the forest. In the fortress, the wargs shifted restlessly in their cages and growled at anyone who dared to approach them.

That night, the Master summoned him. What for - the Witch-king never tried to guess. He only cared that the Master required him, and he savoured the feeling of fulfilment brought by this fact alone. With a steady hand, he opened the heavy door and entered his Master's chambers. He would learn soon enough.

The Master turned to him as he bowed and froze with his head low, awaiting orders.

"I will grant you that knowledge."

For a moment, he tried to guess what these words could mean, but he was not given time. Bound by an unheard spell, he began to change. His joints and bones twisted turning into something else and fur sprouted through his skin. Everything dimmed and colours changed as if he was losing his vision. The Master seemed to grow in stature; and for some reason, the Nazgul had to lift his head to glance at him. Following these metamorphoses, a wild storm of previously unknown smells entered his nose. In bewilderment, he almost choked on them. His ears twitched at the painful assault of sounds he had never heard before. Overwhelmed, he raised his maw and howled. His howl was answered with mice from under the roof hurrying back to their holes and a servant several floors below dropping his tray. The patter of the tiny vermin's paws, the sound of steel hitting the stone - made him crouch. Dazed by these unexpected reactions of the surrounding world, he felt panic crawling into his heart.

Seeing this, the Master gave him an order and his new mind could not grasp it's, as unintelligible as the command was, the sounds from his Master's lips formed a clear symphony; its timbre found the necessary strings to calm his restlessness. Unable to resist the command, he calmed down. The Master extended his arm and stroked the fur on his head and between his ears. A pleasant, soothing touch.

Another order. His hide tinged at these sounds, and his heart began to beat faster. His mouth opened, and let his tongue out with impatience.

The Master knelt and embraced him by his neck. The wolf inhaled the sweet, delicious smell of the Master's body. The beautiful fana of a beautiful Ainu - he licked the bare foot of the Master in appreciation. This new existence made everything very simple, the Master would reward a good boy and the Master would be angry with a bad boy.

With a firm grip, the Master guided him to the open window. In one precise leap, the wolf bounded over the ledge to freedom, crossed the yard,passed the wall and headed into the heart of the forest.

Swift like the wind, they rode through the trees and he lost his sense of time. He let his intoxication overwhelm him with his new speed, sounds and smells around him, his Master atop him, with no worries, no redundant thoughts. He burnt with a wild excitement, eager to please his Master..

When the Master ordered him to stop at last, he did so with regret. He hoped their ride would never end and he would bring them at the edge of the world. Yet, they still remained in the wood and before them lay a secluded glade, quiet and dark, even his keen ears could barely hear a sound of other creatures. The reddish moon was nowhere to be seen through the dense foliage. He panted, his paws dove into the soft soil and grass. The Master got off him, and the wolf looked at him with impatience. The Master's skin glistened, covered in sweat, and he licked his lips as if thirsty after their ride. He lay down on the grass before the wolf. The wolf halted for a moment as if in doubt, yet he approached the Master and licked the sweaty skin of his brow, laying his head in his Master's lap. The Master's gentle hand stroked his fur. They lay together listening to the sounds of the forest at night.

Owls' hooting.

Spiders' crawling.

Leaves' rustling in the wind.

When the dark surrendered before the dawn, they returned into the castle to the same chambers they had left. The Master dismounted and turned to the mirror. His fingers combed through his long hair to get rid of the grass that had tangled in it. Without saying anything or glancing at the wolf he left the room.

As the door closed, the familiar dizziness overcame the wolf. He believed he had fainted for a moment. Struggling with nausea that surged inside him when the spell had been lifted, he did not at first register that he possessed his human body again. He tried to get up from the floor, but his limbs disobeyed him, and he lost his balance. His heart pounded, arms and legs trembled after his failed attempt to move upright. Succumbing to this state of misery he merely crawled on his fours into the corner to the pile of his clothes. There he curled, drowning in his sickness, weak and devastated, until some kind of dark slumber took him.


End file.
